


Ghost in the Machine ~ Long Story Short

by AMX004_Qubeley



Series: NieRtale [2]
Category: NieR: Automata (Video Game), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Found Family, Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-08-26 15:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16683799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMX004_Qubeley/pseuds/AMX004_Qubeley
Summary: Two android soldiers have fallen into a kingdom of monsters from which there is no escape. With a once-in-a-lifetime chance to start new lives and escape the pain of their pasts, 2B and 9S settle into their new home, building ties of friendship and of family.Several short stories fleshing out the nine-month timeskip in between Routes D and E of Ghost in the Machine.





	1. emp[A]thize

**Author's Note:**

> These short stories take place in between Chapters 29 and 30 of [Ghost in the Machine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14042868). You should probably read up to there first, maybe, if you haven't already.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alphys has come clean about her experiments.
> 
> It should feel like a great weight has been lifted from her shoulders.
> 
> But recovery is a hard and long road, as a certain android knows all too well...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [wordbending](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordbending), an amazing writer, for beta reading.
> 
> Content warning for discussions of suicide and suicidal ideation in the first chapter.

The woman who came to Doctor Alphys’ door was nothing but trouble. But she had haunting eyes and a stunning figure and legs that went on for days, and Alphys, like a fool, couldn’t help but let her in.

“Doctor Alphys.” 2B’s voice was quiet and composed, as composed as her stoic face and her piercing eyes, pale slate-blue like ice chips, that peered out from under her feathery silver-white bangs. “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.”

“N-No problem,” Alphys stammered as she led 2B into her lab. The android’s pod, a constant companion, trailed behind her.

2B seemed to miss her old uniform. Or maybe Alphys was just projecting. It had been quite an interesting outfit to say the least, even though the billowing skirt, elegant keyhole blouse, thigh-high tights, and knee-high boots _really_ seemed inappropriate for a soldier (it wouldn’t have been out of place in a magical girl anime, though, if only it came in a color other than black…). It was kind of a shame that old outfit had been nearly torn to shreds during the whole incident with the machines. It wasn’t that the simple white blouse and tan slacks 2B was wearing today weren’t _cute,_ but they made a lot less of an impression.

“Wh-What’s up?” Alphys asked. Half of her hoped 2B just wanted to hang out or something. Alphys was in no condition to do much of anything resembling _work_ with the press conference still on her mind.

Today had been the day Alphys had come clean about everything. Lying about creating an artificial soul. The experiments with DT energy. The amalgamates. What she had done to so many families throughout the kingdom—taking their deceased loved ones and…

 _Get it over with,_ Undyne had encouraged her, _and you’ll stop worrying about it. It’s like peeling off a bandage!_

 _If only, Undyne,_ thought Alphys. _If only._

Alphys had tried to imagine everyone in nothing but their underwear, like Undyne had suggested, but all she’d accomplished had been to make her feel even _more_ insecure because _everybody_ looked better in their underwear than _she_ did.

When _that_ hadn’t worked, she’d gone with Papyrus’s suggestion, which had been to imagine everyone standing on their heads. Alphys had asked how that would help, only for Papyrus to tell her, “Oh, it won’t! But it’s fun to imagine people standing on their heads!” (Sans had, much to his younger brother’s chagrin, chimed in to say that doing so would definitely ‘turn everyone’s frowns upside-down’).

When _that_ hadn’t worked either, Alphys had tried “imagining herself succeeding.” Unfortunately, even a diehard otaku like her couldn’t imagine _that._

Even a few hours after the press conference, Alphys was still a nervous wreck. She was now convinced that half the kingdom wanted her fired and the other half wanted her executed. Chances were good that this lab would be wanting for a new occupant within the next twenty-four hours. After all, she’d only gotten this job through lies and deceit. It served her right that coming clean should ruin her life.

Right now, Alphys _really_ needed someone to hang out with. She wished Undyne could be here with her, but unfortunately, the life of the Captain of the Royal Guard was an extremely busy one. Unfortunately, 2B said the four words Alphys didn’t want to hear.

“I need your help,” 2B said, pulling her right hand out from her pocket. Her fingers were bent into fixed claws, curled like talons—except for her pinkie finger, which dangled loosely and limply as if the machinery beneath her flesh had liquefied.

Alphys cringed. That hand was her handiwork (pardon the pun). “Wh—When did this…”

“It was working fine for the past few days,” 2B said, staring at her hand with a sort of detached disinterest. “This morning, my fingers froze up. Completely immobile.”

“Except for…”

2B prodded the little finger and watched it sway. “I…” She suddenly sounded sheepish. “I tried to…”

Pod 042 spoke up as it hovered at her side. “Statement: against this support pod’s suggestions, Unit 2B attempted to manually repair her hand, further damaging it in the process.”

Alphys imagined 2B trying to bend her finger back into place until every last knuckle joint simply snapped—which was probably what had happened. It wasn’t a pleasant mental image, to say the least. “Didn’t that _hurt?”_ she asked.

“Not anymore,” 2B replied.

“All right, w-well, um…” Alphys sighed. A whole week of work down the drain (not like it was anybody’s fault but her own for her shoddy workmanship). She guessed she’d have to work on it, no matter how she felt. “Gimme your hand a-and I’ll try again. Unless you want to go to s-someone who can do a better—”

2B separated her hand from her wrist and handed it to Alphys. “Here you go. Thank you.”

More than a little unnerved, Alphys took it from her. She could never get used to holding 2B’s disembodied hand. Alphys knew that hands came in all shapes and sizes and textures, and they could be warm or cold or soft or clammy or anything in between, but usually, they came attached to a wrist (unless she was working on Mettaton’s body).

What if she couldn’t do this? What if she just wasn’t smart enough or good enough? Or what if Asgore was going to fire her and she wouldn’t have any resources to do more repairs? Finding and synthesizing materials that could stand in for some of the advanced alloys that made up a YoRHa model’s chassis was a headache and a half already, even with the budget of a Royal Scientist…

She looked up at 2B.

2B looked down at her expectantly. “Can you fix it?” she asked.

“Uh… y-yeah! Of course!” Alphys slipped the hand into the pocket of her labcoat.

“Thanks, Alphys. I really appreciate this.” 2B turned toward the door, but stopped short and looked over her shoulder at Alphys. “…Are you okay? You seem nervous. More so than usual.”

“What? Me? No!” Alphys insisted. “I-I’m fine. R-Really…”

“Okay. Just thought I’d ask.” 2B headed for the door.

“Wait!” Alphys called out.

2B stopped in her tracks.

“I-I, uh… It’s a little l-lonely h—uh, I m-mean… U-Undyne doesn’t finish h-her shift for a-another h-hour, so I was, um, uh, th-thinking maybe we c-could… hang out?” Alphys wrung her hands. “A-A bit?”

“Well…” 2B examined the stump of her wrist. “I don’t really have anywhere to be right now. Sure.” She took a seat at one of the lab’s workbenches, surrounded by piles of painstakingly-cleaned machine parts, and idly tapped on the hollowed-out head of one of her enemies.

Alphys joined her. 2B towered over her even when sitting down; the android’s stoic, frosty gaze didn’t make her seem any more inviting. Even though Alphys knew well enough that 2B probably didn’t dislike her, she still had a quiet, intense aura that made her fearsome even when sitting still and doing nothing. Or maybe that was just Alphys’s social anxiety talking. It was talking _very_ loudly today.

That said, it was actually a little surprising that 2B made the first attempt at small talk.

“So… what’s on your mind?” she asked. Idle conversation came uncomfortably to her. She sounded about as stiff and lifeless as… well, a robot.

“The, uh… the press conference. It, uh… d-didn’t go too well,” Alphys admitted. She still remembered what some of the people in the audience had shouted at her. She wished she didn’t.

Sure, Dogamy and Dogaressa had given her two massive hugs and thanked her for giving them closure after all these years, but some of the other families of her test subjects were a bit… _frostier_ in their reactions. And _that_ weighed much more heavily on her mind. That was just how Alphys was.

“It seemed to go well to me,” 2B said. “You still have all your limbs.”

Alphys groaned. This was what she got for talking with someone who literally _only_ knew combat, who’d never had to deal with the unique terrors of public speaking and politics. “I know, I know. I _feel_ like I’ve been d-disemboweled, though.”

“You still have your job.”

“W-Well, yeah, uh…” _For now,_ Alphys thought. “Listen, that’s…”

The idea of talking to 2B was scary right now—hell, the idea of talking to pretty much anyone who wasn’t Undyne or Papyrus was scary right now—but Alphys knew that 2B, too, had a past riddled with deeds she wasn’t proud of, and there was no one in the world she needed to talk to more than someone who’d been where she was. She needed to talk about that stuff.

But… maybe it would be better to _ease into_ a discussion that heavy, Alphys decided. “U-Uh… d-do you wanna watch some, uh…”

2B shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

“R-Really?”

“It’s _your_ house.”

“Uh… y-yeah! F-For now, I guess,” Alphys responded, hurrying over to her video collection and rifling through it. There was so much to choose from. Would she go with something really badass and action-oriented to impress 2B? Or a more lighthearted slice-of-life comedy? Maybe 2B would appreciate a good _shonen_ adventure, or maybe a _shojo_ romance… Of course, there wasn’t a single bad show in her collection (except Mew Mew Kissy Cutie 2—geez, what a travesty of a sequel _that_ was), but it was really a matter of preference…

“I don’t care one way or the other,” 2B told Alphys, prompting her to realize that at some point her internal monologue about anime had become substantially _less_ internal. “I’ll watch whatever you want to watch.”

“Way to make my choice easier, 2B,” Alphys muttered. “H-Hey, um, that reminds me. Why isn’t 9S, uh, with you?”

“Sans asked him to babysit Papyrus this afternoon,” 2B answered.

“Sounds fun. H-How’s his arm doing?”

“Hasn’t broken down yet,” 2B sighed, looking at the truncated stump of her wrist.

▫▫▫▯▫▫▫

Alphys ended up choosing _Robots Don’t Belong in High School,_ a slice-of-life comedy about an assassin android shaped like a teenage girl who had to attend high school to track down her latest target. She figured 2B would find it funny. The android didn’t seem to be laughing at any of the jokes and hijinks, but she didn’t seem bored, either, so Alphys counted that as a win.

The two of them sat down on Alphys’s mattress with a couple bottles of soda and bags of chips and got through almost three episodes before Alphys finally started mustering up the courage to ask 2B about something very, very important.

But first, she decided to check her phone. Onscreen were several new message notifications—fortunately, nothing from King Asgore, and even _more_ fortunately, one of them was from Undyne! _Un_ fortunately, her phone was clogged with push notifications from social media. She tried to scroll past them on her way to the message from Undyne, but couldn’t help but peek at a few of them.

_can’t believe you haven’t quit out of shame. or died out of shame. do both plz_

_What the $! &% is wrong with you?_

_Sorry, my finger slipped. What the fuck is wrong with you?_

_your literally the worst person in the entire kingdom and considering the competition thats saying something_

_If I were conducting a trolley and you and Jerry were tied to two separate tracks, I would run over both of you._

Alphys kept scrolling until she got to Undyne’s latest series of messages.

_HEY ALPHY!!! im almost done with my shift! >3_

_wait i meant <3_

_no wait that other one was cute too_

_> 3 >3 >3_

_they’re kitty faces!_

_anyway i’m gonna stop by as soon as i can. gotta stop by and pick something special up first_

 

Alphys was glad to hear Undyne was on her way, but that meant if she wanted to have a private conversation with 2B, she’d have to make her move now. So she set her phone aside, cleared her throat, and tried to settle the butterflies in her stomach.

“H-Hey, uh, 2B?” she asked as the protagonist of the show struggled with her burgeoning feelings for her would-be target (on second thought, maybe this show was _not_ one 2B would appreciate).

“Hmm?”

Alphys tried to focus on what she wanted to talk to 2B about, what she wanted to say that she was too afraid to say to Undyne, something she knew 2B understood that she worried Undyne couldn’t, but the words buzzed like white noise in her head before she could translate them to speech and roll them off her tongue. She curled her tail around her waist and onto her lap, nervously tweaking its tip with her fingers. “I wanted to ask you about, uh… _you know._ If—If you’re okay with talking about it.”

The stoic veil fell away from 2B as she swallowed hard and bowed her head, her hair hiding her downcast eyes. Alphys immediately regretted her decision. “What do you want to know?” she asked.

“How… How did you _d-deal_ with it? I mean,” Alphys said, forcing out the words before her brain could second-guess them, “how did—We’re in a state of _war,_ I _did_ these things because of that, I’m a _war criminal,_ no one can tell me it’s okay! Undyne can say all she wants that I did it for king and country, b-because—because I-I did, I _did,_ it was my patriotic duty and it was _still_ an evil thing to do! And—And how do you _deal_ with all the m-messages running through your brain, those th-thoughts in your own voice that say, you’ve done something u-unforgivable, that—that n-no one would miss you, that they’d be b-better off without you, you should e-end it before the world ends it for you, you’re better off just… giving up…”

Alphys found her words faltering as 2B sat silent and still at her side.

2B said nothing for a long time.

 _Oh, no,_ Alphys thought. _I just_ broke _2B!_

“I’m sorry,” Alphys blurted out, mentally flagellating herself. Stupid, stupid Alphys. Throwing all this stuff at 2B for her own selfish gratification, forcing her to relive her past all so 2B could come up with some magic words to make her _feel better._ She all but threw herself at 2B, wrapping her arms around the android’s waist and crying into her shoulder, her voice muffled in 2B’s shirt.

“I—I just—I thought maybe you could… you could… Because you’re so strong and—and stoic, a-and I thought you could…” The tears flowed faster, hotter, Alphys’s heart leaping into her throat and pounding even harder. “I’m sorry… You’re just… I thought you were the only one who could understand. I’m really—I’m just so, so selfish to force you to do this for me…”

2B patted her head. “You’re not selfish.”

Alphys snuffled away the snot clogging her sinuses, loosened from her crying. “I—I’m not?” she croaked.

“It isn’t selfish to ask for help.”

“W-Well, um, i-in that case…”

“But I don’t think I have any to give you.” 2B sighed. “How many times have you tried?”

The android’s blunt line of questioning startled Alphys right out of her pity party. “Uh… t-tried what?”

“Do you have a plan? Do you know how you’d do it?” 2B asked. “Have you written any notes? Have you decided if it’ll be painful or not? Quick or not?” Her hand gripped Alphys’s shoulder, a note of desperate, intense concern running through her voice. _“Have you decided when to do it?”_

“U-Uh…” Alphys felt her words stick in her throat. She’d never really tried to _kill_ herself or do anything drastic, she’d just wondered… a _lot…_ about how nice it would be to just stop existing for a while. Or maybe forever. And sometimes she’d put it into practice by just… ignoring people, ignoring obligations, deadlines, meetings, neighbors, et cetera… a little taste of oblivion. Seeing what the world would be like without her.

As it turned out, oblivion usually didn’t seem so bad. But… actually _do_ it? No, never.

Well…

There _had_ been that one time at the garbage dump, long, long ago…

“Er… um… n-no, not really,” Alphys said lamely. “S-So, uh, d-don’t, um, worry.”

2B relaxed her grip. “…Good,” she muttered, evidently a little embarrassed about her outburst. “Does it at least help to know you’re not alone?”

“I-I guess,” Alphys replied.

“Thanks.” 2B managed a half-smile. “Maybe it’s selfish of _me_ to say this, but I’m glad I’m not alone, too.”

“I don’t th-think that’s s-selfish,” said Alphys. “B-But, uh…” If 2B said she was glad she wasn’t alone, too, then did that mean…

2B seemed to know what she was thinking. “It seemed to be our fate, us Type-E’s,” she continued. “It’s been a long, long time,” she said, “since I’ve thought of it, consciously at least. A longer time since I’ve tried.”

“Y-You _tried_ once?”

Pod 042 chimed in. “Affirmative. Unit 2B has attempted self-termination at least—”

2B shushed her pod, raising a finger to its speakers. “I didn’t try very hard,” she told Alphys. “With the backup system in place, it’s pretty difficult to die. I couldn’t ever muster up the courage to delete my backups. Which,” she said, running her thumb over the inside of her truncated wrist as if tracing an invisible scar, “defeated the purpose, really. I don’t even remember doing it.”

“Oh.”

“After a while, I beat those thoughts down, so deep they could never run through my head,” 2B said. “But they crept up in other ways. They found a new outlet.” Her eyes seemed locked onto her truncated wrist. “It always does… the part of you that yearns to end it all, whispering in your ear. It knows how to bend you to its will.”

Alphys remembered that horrible morning in the sub-basement levels of the Royal Laboratory, the fury in 2B’s eyes, how _nobody_ could drag her away from throwing herself against those machines, how she and Undyne could only impotently watch as 2B tore herself apart against the horde… and she swore she could see those memories play out again in 2B’s cold, troubled eyes.

“So, uh… you d-don’t get over it.” Alphys hung her head. That was… the exact opposite of reassuring.

2B shook her head. “I haven’t… Not yet. But there’s still hope.”

Alphys turned her attention back to the show. _“Oh, I don’t know what to do,”_ the protagonist was lamenting in a cheaply-animated soliloquy. Lots of panning shots and objects conveniently covering her mouth so the animators didn’t have to do any lip-syncing. _“How can I love a boy I’m supposed to kill? How can I kill a boy that I love? It’s enough to make me want to throw my CPU into the garbage and stick a magnet on my h—”_

She all but shot across the floor to turn off the TV. This was a _really_ bad choice of anime! What had she been thinking?! “H-Hey, uh, 2B! Th-Thanks for hanging out with me!” she shouted out, hopefully drowning out the dialogue (forgetting that the series was subtitled) as she rushed over to the TV and ripped its power cord from the wall socket. “I’m r-ready to fix your h-hand now, s-so you can, uh, leave—or, if you want, um, y-you could stay and watch?”

▫▫▫▯▫▫▫

Under the glare of her workstation’s lamp, Alphys delicately peeled the synthetic skin and muscle away from the inner mechanisms of 2B’s broken hand, exposing the skeletal chassis. Beneath the oily streaks of lubricant coating the metal, she could clearly see the problem.

“O-Okay, s-so, um, here’s the deal,” she said, prodding at the knuckles of 2B’s hand. “Wh-When your hand got burned, th-there was severe damage to the servos in here, a-and I had to replace them.” She tried to focus, but she was antsy knowing that Undyne would be here soon.

2B nodded as she followed along. She actually seemed a little fascinated seeing the inner workings of her hand laid bare. Alphys felt a lot calmer herself to be working. It helped her focus, turned her mind outward, drowned out the angst.

“But we don’t have the s-same alloys they used on the surface t-to build you,” Alphys confessed, “s-so I had to… make do with a substitution. I-It’s kind of like if you’re m-making a cake, but your f-friend’s vegan, so you can’t use eggs, a-and you have to use bananas i-instead! Wh-Which is what Sakamoto had to do in _Cooking Wars Zeta,_ which—ooh, we sh-should watch that next! It’s a r-really cute show and you learn a lot about f-food preparation, even though I n-never really have time to try out any of the things I learn because I’m s-so busy…”

2B nodded along. “You had to make my hand vegan.”

“I-I guess you could say that.”

“What’s ‘vegan,’ by the way?”

“Eh, never mind.” Alphys peered at the servos under a microscope, noting hairline fractures running through the metal as she coaxed out the damaged parts with a tiny set of tools. “And here’s the p-problem. The alloy I tried to use, uh, l-lacks the tensile strength of the o-original materials.”

“I must have just pushed myself too hard,” 2B said. “I’ll be more careful next time.”

“N-No, it was shoddy workmanship, r-really!” Alphys insisted as she threaded fresh (but still with the same design flaw) parts into the skeleton. “I-If I’d just spent a few more days, I-I’d have come up with s-something better! Honest!”

2B poked at her disassembled hand. “This isn’t shoddy. You’re very good at this, Alphys.”

Alphys could feel herself blushing as she finished replacing the servos and put the skin back on. She still had to develop stronger materials for the joints (if she could), but this would do for now. “A-Aww, 2B, you don’t really m-mean that…”

“No, I do,” 2B said. “Most of the technology down here is thousands of years behind the surface. But after just a few weeks, you can do _this._ That’s… impressive.”

If Alphys’s cheeks hadn’t been rosy before, they most certainly were now.

“You might have gotten this job by lying through your teeth,” 2B went on, “but the King would be a fool not to recognize your legitimate talents.”

No longer able to withstand the barrage of praise, Alphys threw down her tools and threw her arms around 2B, squeezing her tight. “Aw, 2B! I-I love you!”

She was instantly mortified to hear those words leave her mouth, and quickly backed away. “I-I mean, uh, I—c-completely p-platonically, o-of course—”

The slightest hint of a smile twitched at the corner of 2B’s mouth, right above the mole on the left side of her chin, as she took her repaired hand and reattached it to her wrist. “I’m flattered… but I don’t think we’re a good fit for each other. We’re too alike.”

“Oh! Y-Yeah, uh, I-I-I mean, um, I wasn’t _s-seriously…”_ Alphys sputtered, trailing off. “Uh, I-I mean, I love you as a friend!”

2B nodded as if to say, ‘So do I.’

The doorbell buzzed, and Alphys immediately rushed over to the door. It was Undyne, finally! She’d sure taken her sweet time getting here.

Of course, it could just as easily _not_ be Undyne. Maybe it was an angry mob. Nevertheless, Alphys banished those anxieties, or at least shoved them under the rug, and opened the door for her guest.

She heard three people shout _“CONGRATULATIONS, ALPHYS!”_ before a pair of strong, scaly, muscular arms wrapped around her and squeezed. She felt her feet leave the ground as Undyne hoisted her up, grinning from ear to ear, her yellow eye gleaming brightly.

 _“Alphy!”_ Undyne hugged her again, rocking her to and fro. “You’re so brave! Ahh, I missed you so much! All my shift, I couldn’t stop thinking about you! A couple bad guys actually got away because I was too busy thinking about you and wondering how you were doing!”

“Oh, no! I-I’m s-sorry, Undyne, I-I—”

“Ha! Just kidding!” Undyne finally set her down. “No one _ever_ gets away from me!”

Alphys peered past Undyne and took notice of the two people behind her. 9S and Papyrus were standing there, the two of them holding a very large box.

“O-Oh, hi, N-Nines. Papyrus. Y-You’re here, too?”

“We sure are—” 9S started.

 _“They sure are!”_ Undyne shouted. “And we all pitched in and got a special gift for you, too!”

Alphys approached the box with trepidation. _Please don’t be spaghetti,_ she thought. Papyrus’s reputation as a… _cook_ preceded him.

She opened the lid.

It was a chocolate cake, elegantly-frosted, with “Congrats on Coming Clean Written on the Top in Cursive With Green Icing” written on the top… in cursive, with green icing.

It was beautiful enough to bring a tear to Alphys’s eye. Followed by several more from both eyes. “A-Aw, thanks, you guys…” she sniffled.

“C’mon! Let’s make a dent in this thing!” Undyne said, patting Alphys heartily on the shoulder. “And then we’ll all go shopping!”

“Uh… sh-shopping?” Alphys wasn’t sure about that… shopping meant being around people, and being around people meant being around the kinds of people who’d sent those nasty text messages…

Undyne grinned. “Yeah! Haven’t you ever heard of retail therapy, girlfriend?”

▫▫▫▯▫▫▫

It was said that you could get anything you wanted in New Home. Anything you wanted… except for sunlight… and some peace and quiet. The streets were always bustling, the restaurants were always packed, and every attraction had lines stretching out the door. You’d have to love rubbing elbows with people if you wanted to live in New Home, which was one of the reasons why Alphys lived in Hotland instead.

When it came to clothing, the MTT Department Store had everything, and when it came to fashion, everything was chic as could be. Pants for monsters with no legs. Shirts for monsters with no arms. Formalwear. Casualwear. Fancy casualwear. Casual formalwear. Everything in between.

The one downside to shopping here was having to walk past the omnipresent mannequins of Mettaton which modeled all of the hottest designs. His face was, to say the least, not one which 2B or 9S had much interest in seeing. After what Mettaton had done, _Alphys_ wasn’t so keen on seeing his face around here either.

To say Alphys was anxious about being in public would be an understatement, especially today of all days. She couldn’t help but feel that every monster she passed was staring at her… judging her… condemning her… plotting to kill her…

The changing booths were a small haven, a place of solitude. Alphys tried on all the dresses she and Undyne had picked out—some of which were a bit _too_ revealing and showed off parts of her body she _definitely_ wasn’t comfortable showing off. Especially the pale blue dress with no back and lacy little, um… boob cups? There was _no_ way she was wearing _that_ one out of this little stall.

Undyne knocked on the door. “Everything okay in there?” she called out. “You need help trying anything on?”

“Uh… N-No, I’m fine!” Alphys insisted. She actually didn’t really want to leave at all. Maybe she could just stay here until closing time and sneak out of the city while everyone was asleep. Wait, no. That wouldn’t work. New Home was, after all, “The City That Only Sleeps at Three O’Clock.”

“C’mon! Pick out your favorite and show us!” Undyne cajoled her. “Even 2B tried something on, and you _gotta_ see what it is!”

Alphys decided on a polka-dotted dress she’d picked out. It was a little frumpy, but she felt the least embarrassed wearing it. And maybe Undyne would think it was cute.

Taking a deep breath to quell her nerves and reassuring herself for the umpteenth time that nobody was standing on the other side of the door besides Undyne and her friends, Alphys stepped out of the booth.

Undyne stood in front of her, wearing a tied-off, midriff-baring blouse and a hip-hugging cowl skirt that showed off her toned, muscular physique; suddenly, Alphys felt the room get at least ten degrees hotter. She was _gorgeous._

“Uh…” Alphys glanced back at the changing booth. Was it too late to dive back in there and pick out a more ambitious outfit? Or maybe just stay there? Forever? That little booth could be her home from now on. Especially since she was probably getting fired and kicked out of her house.

“You look great!” Undyne shouted, pulling her into a bear hug. Squeezed against the captain’s chest—and it was, Alphys realized, a _very_ good chest to be squeezed against—she felt her anxieties melt away. If Undyne felt she looked great… well, then, she looked great, and that was all there really was to say about that!

Alphys caught a glimpse of 2B and 9S out of the corner of her eye. More accurately, she caught a glimpse of 9S. 2B seemed to be trying to hide behind him, although since he was shorter than her, it didn’t really work as well as she’d hoped.

Somehow, while Alphys had been agonizing over dresses, Undyne had coerced 2B into trying on a very loudly-colored floral-print shirt. To say it clashed with the much more stylistically-appropriate black ruffled skirt she had on (obviously, something she’d chosen for herself) was an understatement. It clashed with her _everything._

“Y-You look cute,” Alphys offered, hoping her compliment would make 2B feel better.

“Told you it was a good look for you,” Undyne said, trying hard not to snicker (but not hard enough).

2B rolled her eyes and stormed into the changing booth Alphys had just left. Moments later, she came out with a much less obnoxious shirt on.

Alphys glanced at 9S’s shopping cart, noticing a curious omission. “Uh, 9S?” she asked. “W-Won’t you be cold in Snowdin without any, uh… _pants?”_

“I like shorts,” 9S retorted. “They’re comfy and easy to wear.”

Undyne patted him on the back, a toothy grin splitting her face. “Attaboy! You show that cold who’s boss!”

_“Oh! Hi there, Doctor Alphys!”_

Alphys blanched. She knew that voice. It was…

She whirled around to find King Asgore towering over her. To say he was a mountain of a man did not capture the scale to which he was built. No monster in the kingdom was taller… or wider. His snow-white fur, his gloriously golden beard, and his curled, majestic horns all came together to paint the very picture of royal grandeur. Alphys, like many others, liked to entertain the idea that beneath his violet robes, he was shredded. Abs you could grate cheese on if there wasn’t so much fur there…

Alphys felt even smaller in his presence than usual. “Eep… Um… uh… K-King Asgore, uh… m-my boss… what’s, uh, happening?”

Asgore hefted a long black bag. “Oh, I simply needed a new suit tailored. I, unfortunately, outgrew my old one…”

“W-Working out too hard, huh?” Alphys asked, unable to stop herself from imagining Asgore flexing his muscles hard enough to tear through his clothes.

“Um… yes,” Asgore said, his eyes flitting back and forth. “I was… working out. In my formal suit.”

“Nice ch-change of pace.” Alphys felt hot again.

“So, Doctor…” Asgore crouched down until he was almost eye-level with Alphys. In a low voice, he continued. “I saw your press conference this morning.”

“Ah. Aha. Heh.” Alphys chuckled nervously. “I-I’m fired, aren’t I?”

“Well…” Asgore stroked his beard. “Hmm. As soon as the news broke, I made calls to all of the most accomplished scientists and people with science and engineering degrees. But none of them wanted the job. Some of them even said the position was cursed!”

“C-Cursed?”

“But the kingdom needs a Royal Scientist,” Asgore went on. “And although you _did,_ um, fraudulently inflate your credentials to get the position and commit sins against nature, you do an excellent job maintaining and developing the kingdom’s infrastructure.”

Alphys held her breath. Was she seriously _not_ getting fired over this? She didn’t want to believe it. It was just too good to be true.

“And to boot, you _did_ come clean, and that takes no small amount of courage. And doing it publicly, in front of the whole kingdom as well!” Asgore clapped her on the shoulder, chuckling. “If you had been brave in any other circumstance, for any other reason, you would have gotten a medal.”

“I-I’m not losing my j-job?”

“Your job is indeed safe. I accept your apology for your wrongdoing and maintain my confidence in you due to your fantastic track record, the lying and grotesque experiments notwithstanding.” Asgore stood up. “Now, I must return to my— _are those humans?”_

Alphys whirled around. Oh, no. He must have caught sight of 2B and 9S! “W-Wait, uh, K-King Asgore, th-those aren’t—”

Within seconds, Asgore had a fiery red trident in his hand and was striding toward the two. “Humans,” he growled, “you dare trespass on my domain?” He looked them up and down. “And buy our clothes?”

Undyne stood in front of the androids. “Wait, Your Highness! These two—”

“Thank you for apprehending them, Captain.” Asgore patted her on the head. “You have done quite well, as you always do. Now, the time has come—!”

“They’re androids!” Alphys shouted out. “N-Not humans!”

“Oh.” Asgore lowered his trident. “Is this true, Captain?”

Undyne nodded. “Yep! They just _look_ like humans.”

“Hmm. Very _much_ like humans,” Asgore said, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

9S tentatively raised his hand. “Uh, hi there, King Asgore. We’re androids. My name is 9S, and this is my sister, 2B.”

2B waved.

“Humans _are_ a wily species…” Asgore mused.

2B removed the hand Alphys had just repaired from her wrist and handed it to him. “This is my hand.”

“Oh.” Asgore stared down bemusedly at her offering.

“J-Just look at it,” Alphys told him.

Asgore picked the hand up and looked at it from every angle.

“We have more proof,” 9S said, turning to 2B, lifting her shirt, and delicately removing the skin from her abdomen to reveal her mechanical endoskeleton beneath layers of synthetic muscle and subdermal armor plating.

“Oh, dear!” Asgore gasped. “Please, this is a public place. Do not expose yourself like that.”

9S lowered 2B’s shirt.

“You have convinced me, though.” Asgore bowed. “I apologize for harassing you… and welcome you warmly into our kingdom!” he added, sweeping the two up into a bear hug. “You, uh, _will_ have to take a citizenship exam, of course. I think. It has been a very long time since we’ve had immigrants.”

Alphys didn’t realize how long she’d been holding her breath, but when she finally exhaled, she felt as though a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

Almost.

▫▫▫▯▫▫▫

That night, Alphys was back to her old habits. The lab was dark. Her living quarters were a mess. The sound of overly-dramatic cartoon violence filled the air. The only difference was that Undyne was lounging next to her with her arm wrapped around Alphys’s shoulders with a fluffy blanket wrapped around the two of them. The remnants of a huge chocolate cake and half of an extra-large pizza with mushrooms, pineapple, and anchovies lay at their feet.

There should have been an epiphany or something. After Asgore had spoken to her, Alphys had almost expected… she didn’t know, a ray of light to shine down on her and a choir of angels to sing to her that all of her problems were solved and she’d never have to feel bad again.

But, really, crushing performance anxiety aside, Alphys didn’t really feel any different from how she’d felt last night. She still felt like a fraud and a criminal. She still felt like she had a life that was better than she deserved—that she had a _life_ she didn’t deserve.

At the end of the day, Alphys couldn’t help but think that she should have felt better than she did. Everything had worked out fine. So why did the last few pieces of cake still taste like ash in her mouth? Why did she still have a hollow pit in her stomach that nothing she ate or drank could fill?

Undyne gave her another bone-crushing squeeze. She’d been doing that all day. Alphys definitely couldn’t say, in all honestly, that she didn’t like it, but she was starting to feel a little sore. “Hey, what’s the matter?” she asked.

Alphys sighed. “I, uh… I d-dunno. Everything’s fine, but…”

“Hey, don’t let it get to you.” Undyne grinned. “If _anyone_ tells you the kind of shit they’ve been saying to you on the ‘Net to your face, I’ll make ‘em wish they’d never been born!” She flexed her arm, showing off her bicep and _oh, god she was hot._

Alphys blushed. “I-I, uh, um—I—Th-That’s n-nice, Undyne,” she stammered, so flustered that she forgot how bad she felt, “but, uh…”

She stared down at the detritus from her and Undyne’s “victory dinner” in dismay. “I just feel the same as I’ve felt for the p-past, uh, years. Everything’s f-fixed now, except, uh… well, except m-my heart, or my brain, I g-guess.”

“Aww.” Undyne seemed to deflate a little. “Well… you ever broke your arm or your leg or something?”

“Uh… n-no?”

“Those things don’t always heal right away, y’know.” Undyne patted Alphys on the head. “Your brain’s broken, Alphy. But that’s okay! ‘Cuz it’s gonna heal up sooner or later!”

Alphys froze as Undyne planted a kiss on her cheek. She could almost feel the steam rising from her face as the blood rushed to her head.

“However long it takes,” Undyne said, a twinkle in her yellow eye, “I’m gonna be there for you until you’re all better! And then I’ll be there for you after that! You know why?”

“’C-Cuz f-friends never g-give up,” Alphys stammered, still reeling from the kiss.

“’Cuz friends _never_ give up!” Undyne grabbed Alphys by the shoulders and squeezed her to her chest. It was nice, but after a few seconds, Alphys started feeling the air in her lungs start to burn. “And I’m _never_ gonna give up! Never gonna let you down! Never—”

“Mmmph.”

Undyne released her. “Oops. Sorry,” she mumbled sheepishly, her cheeks reddening.

“Thanks, Undyne.” Alphys let out a far less melancholy sigh. “I-I guess…”

Things would turn around. Like 2B had said to her earlier that day…

_Not yet. But there’s still hope._

Alphys had to have hope. Hope that someday, her wounds would fade into scars.


	2. mechanical [B]allad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2B and 9S run afoul of Mettaton once again, awakening in 2B an unexpected new interest... one which makes Toriel very, very happy.

It was a beautiful day outside. The birds were singing. The sun was shining. Probably. There was no way of knowing for sure under the mountain.

2B and 9S had been living in the Kingdom of Monsters for nearly a month, and their presence gave the kingdom several dilemmas to struggle with. For starters, for androids who looked like humans, it wasn’t so uncommon for some of the kingdom’s more fearful subjects to _treat_ them like humans as well, i.e. try to have them arrested and their souls removed.

The second problem was that the kingdom, due to the impenetrable magical barrier imprisoning it within the mountain, had no formal immigration process, or at least, not one that had seen any use in thousands of years.

But King Asgore had dusted off some of the old laws and statutes—or, to be more accurate, his advisors and a gaggle of volunteer historical researchers had—and found all of the paperwork, examinations, and bureaucratic rigmarole the process required. As it had turned out, there were a lot of them.

9S stretched as he stepped out of City Hall, a wide, cocky grin plastered on his face. “Well,” he said, “that wasn’t so hard. Did you get that question about the three main causes of the Snowdin Whiskey Revolt of 9043, though?”

“I don’t think there was any variation between our tests,” 2B replied.

“No, I mean, did you _get_ it?” 9S asked.

“You’re asking _me?”_ 2B asked, still reeling from the citizenship exam. Of course 9S would have done well. He soaked up knowledge like a sponge soaked up water. 2B, on the other hand, didn’t feel very confident about her chances of becoming a subject of the King any time soon.

“I mean, I got the _obvious_ one, that it was about unfair taxes on whiskey,” 9S said as he and 2B walked down the block together, “and the second reason I came up with was that a tree rot made it harder to get firewood and people needed the extra money to buy oil, which I _think_ was right, but I just couldn’t think of the third one!”

“I don’t think I answered the question as well as you,” 2B admitted. “I… blanked out.”

“You didn’t even put down that the Whiskey Revolt was about _whiskey?”_ 9S asked, further exacerbating 2B’s embarrassment.

“It slipped my mind.” 2B was ashamed to admit how many questions she’d racked her brain for an answer to, only for whatever knowledge she’d accrued in her study sessions to retreat into the dark corners of her memory space. She’d tried to treat the citizenship test the same way she’d treat a post-mission questioning by her superior officers, but there had just been too much information to sift through for her to keep it all straight. She wasn’t a Scanner, after all.

“Did you put down _anything?”_

2B sighed. “I wrote, ‘It is the nature of all living things to come into conflict with each other. Monsters are no exception to this rule. Over time, even the most peaceful of beings will eventually fall to this cold truth. No matter how long peace lasts, strife wins out in the end. There is never a reason. Only an excuse. Over time, the excuse is completely irrelevant; its effects are all that matter.’”

9S stopped and stared. “Wow, 2B. That was… kinda beautiful. Pessimistic, but…”

2B felt her face warm up. “N-Nines, I—no, it was just…”

“If I was grading that exam,” 9S said, pulling his visor out of his pocket and wrapping it over his eyes, “I’d have given you partial credit for that. You can be really philosophical sometimes, you know?”

2B shook her head and closed her eyes. “It was a _history_ exam, not philosophy.”

“Dammit!” 9S shouted, prompting 2B’s eyes to fly back open. She laid her arm in front of him and stepped forward, darting eyes on the lookout for any danger.

“What is it, 9S?” 2B asked, her black box still hot in her chest, suspicion tainting her every thought about the crowds of pedestrians walking past them.

“I was dead wrong about the tree rot. That happened in 9057, fourteen years _after_ the revolt.” 9S kept browsing through the information stored on his visor. “Oh, come on! It wasn’t about whiskey taxes at all, it was about a guy _named_ Whiskey!” He shook his fist. “Honestly, I think you’re gonna get more points on that question than me.”

2B had to admit, she didn’t feel quite so embarrassed for getting such an “obvious” question wrong anymore. “I’m sure you still passed,” she told 9S, patting him on the shoulder.

“I’m sure you did, too!” The brightness returned to 9S’s face. “So… what are we gonna do once we’re proper citizens? We’ll be able to own property, vote for regional governors—oh, and we can get proper jobs, too! What kind of a job would _you_ like?”

“Hmm… I’m happy doing what I do now,” 2B replied, not quite in the mood to answer any _more_ questions.

“Yeah, but that’s all under-the-table stuff. I mean like a _job_ job. I’d like to be a librarian.”

“To nobody’s surprise.”

“Or at least _something_ to do with research. Maybe I could work for Alphys. Anyway, I think…” 9S scratched his chin. “You should be a poet!”

“A-A poet?” 2B repeated.

9S shrugged. “I think you’d be good at it. You’ve got a lot of experiences no one else down here has. People would really be interested in hearing what you have to say.”

2B could feel her face redden again. “I’m not so sure,” she mumbled, fumbling with the hem of her skirt.

“Just think about it. Anyway, how about we celebrate today with some pizza?”

 _“Celebrate?_ We don’t even know if either of us _passed.”_

“Managing to _take_ the test without someone mistaking us for humans and trying to arrest us on the way here is enough of a victory.” 9S sifted through some more data on his visor. “Won’t be hard to find any New Home-style pizza around here… unless you’re in the mood for Snowdin-style?”

“No, that’s too thick.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. If I wanted a pie, I’d hike over to Toriel’s.”

“What’s the kind with those glowing mushrooms, the fruit, and those tiny fish?” 2B asked.

 _“Waterfall_ style?” 9S made a face. “Ugh. The only fruit that belongs on pizza is tomatoes. What about Hotland-style? I’ve always wanted to try it,” 9S suggested.

“You didn’t know it existed until last week.”

“Yeah, and I’ve always wanted to try it ever since! You know, it’s actually baked in an industrial parts tray instead of a pizza pan. Sounds like just the kind of food for us, doesn’t it?”

“Sounds like you’ve already made up your mind.”

9S pulled off his visor, grinning sheepishly. “Well, I mean—I’m just putting in my two cents. It’s all up to you, 2B. If you _want_ gross pizza with weird, salty fish on it…”

2B shrugged. “Fine. Let’s try your place.”

▫▫▫▯▫▫▫

It was extremely cute how much 9S enjoyed food. In fact, it was extremely cute how much he enjoyed just about _everything._ Food, books, movies, music, people, places, and everything else… as long as it was a novel experience, he loved it, and here in the underground, in a place untouched by the long wars that had ground civilizations to dust and turned cities to husks, there were novel experiences aplenty.

What made it so cute was how much he loved to _gush_ about whatever he was enjoying. Back on the surface, he’d never let 2B hear the end of it if he found something interesting (until she or his Operator gently reminded him to refrain from irrelevant chatter while on missions, that was), and when he and 2B went out to visit the more populous areas of the kingdom, there was almost nothing capable of shutting him up.

And, of course, down here, there wasn’t any _need_ to shut him up—2B could fall asleep listening to his excited ramblings. Sometimes, she did.

There was, as luck would have it, a nearby restaurant right here in New Home that served Hotland-style pizza, and it made quite an impression on 9S. 2B could tell that it was taking every ounce of willpower in his body to keep him from talking with his mouth full—and it wasn’t enough.

“This is incredible!” 9S gasped, examining the corner piece of the rectangular pizza he’d just taken a bite out of. The crust was thick, crispy on the bottom and sides, yet was still thick and had a chewy texture all the way through, and the charred, just-slightly-blackened edges were wonderfully crunchy.

2B knew all this, despite having yet to take a single bite, because 9S was telling her _everything._ He hadn’t even gotten to describing the sauce, cheese, or toppings yet. He’d probably get to that part within the next few bites.

Nope. He’d finished an entire piece, was grabbing another, and was _still_ raving about the crust. 9S was _adorable._

As 2B reached out and grabbed a piece of her own—a corner piece, because those were the best, according to 9S, who had only had one piece so far in his entire life—a monster who was _a_ waiter but not _their_ waiter came by and slid a slip of paper onto the table.

9S set down his half-finished slice, a gooey strand of cheese still stretching from the pizza to his mouth. “Huh? Hey! E-Excuse me!” he called after the waiter as they walked off, trying to flag them down as best he could. “We’re not ready for the bill yet! We were thinking about ordering dessert…”

2B reached out and flipped the slip of paper over.

“If they want us to leave,” 9S grumbled, “they don’t have to be so passive-aggressive about it.” He crossed his arms and pouted while 2B read the slip of paper.

_My dearest 2B and 9S ~_

_I have your pods. Come to the basement level of the MTT Resort, both of you, alone, if you ever want to see them again. _

_Don’t tell anybody! It’ll be our little secret… or else!_

_< 3_

_~Mettaton~_

2B’s face fell. “Nines…”

9S groaned. “Don’t tell me they overcharged us, too! Remember, Undyne said that if anyone keeps doing that to us, she’ll beat them up—”

2B showed him the ‘bill’ and his face immediately soured. “That fucking tin can. I’ll cut him to pieces!” He flagged down the waiter again with much more success this time. “Hey, pal. I need our bill and a box.”

It wasn’t long before the two of them were on their way to rescue their most faithful and constant companions, swords in hand.

▫▫▫▯▫▫▫

Mettaton’s note led 2B and 9S deep below the glittering tourist trap that was the MTT Resort, braving sly puzzles and precarious traps in the basement levels until they found themselves in the gloomy remnants of an ancient auditorium, its once-resplendent and gilded walls and vaulted ceiling crumbling, its wallpaper stained and peeling, tiered rows of seats vanishing into the murky shadows.

On the dimly-lit stage were the androids’ two support pods, both tied to a large lead weight surrounded by a copper mesh Faraday cage. Unlike the sliding block puzzle 9S had taken nearly half an hour to figure out, freeing the pods was incredibly easy; with their swords, 2B and 9S simply made short work of the cage and cut the pods free.

2B reached down and patted the hull of her pod, making sure it was all right. There didn’t seem to be any damage, at least nothing on the outside, and Pod 042 bobbed contentedly at the show of affection.

_“Greetings, beauty and gentlebeauty! How wonderful to make your acquaintances yet again!”_

All of a sudden, the stage lights overhead came on, bathing the stage in a harsh white glow, and as 2B and 9S squinted against the glare, a rectangular machine balancing precariously on a single rolling wheel with a face of light-up squares and a cape tied around its “shoulders” rolled down the central aisle.

“At last,” Mettaton shouted out with a flourish of his cape, “you may now see what I have brought you here for!”

2B and 9S looked around the ancient auditorium, expecting at any moment hordes of machines with cultlike devotion to their “Silver Idol” to leap out at them from behind the gloomy satin curtains, drooping banners, and gilded rows of seats stretching high into the air. They readied their swords.

Mettaton cleared his throat. “Ahem. Over here, darlings.”

2B lowered her blade but kept it at the ready as she looked over at Mettaton.

And as she did, Mettaton threw himself at the two androids’ feet. His cape pooled on the floor. 2B’s sword nearly sliced him in two, but stopped in its reflexive swing just mere centimeters away from his burnished metal hull.

“I—I want to ask for your permission to make an opera based on your lives!” the mechanical star cried out.

His voice echoed through the theater as 2B and 9S stood before him, dumbfounded.

“What.”

Mettaton cleared his “throat” and clasped his gloved hands together. “There is a royal competition next year. To create this thing called ‘high art,’ which is beloved by the wealthy and high-class. Many of the Underground’s greatest literary and artistic minds are competing in it. And I… I want to show them all up!”

2B and 9S shared a confused glance.

“I know. I have very wide appeal already. And more fame than I could dream of! But these snobs still look down on me! They call my television shows, my movies, my concerts, my albums, my licensed video game tie-ins… ‘lowest-common-denominator!’ It’s sickening!”

2B had seen plenty of Mettaton’s pop cultural cachet at this point in her stay underground, mainly because the only television channel was roughly eighty percent Mettaton (ninety-five on weekends—9S had crunched the numbers). Mettaton was right. It _was_ sickening.

She crossed her arms. “And you want our help to…”

“…Make an ‘opera’ based on our lives?” 9S asked. He sighed in relief. “Honestly, I was _sure_ you were going to try to torture and kill us.”

Mettaton let out a hoarse, nervous laugh. “I’m not that stupid, darlings.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” 2B said, wondering what an opera was but not feeling in the mood to ask. “Is that _it?”_

“Well… Okay. This isn’t just to show those snobs that I am a genuine _artiste_ capable of revealing the true nature of the monster condition. There’s also a huge cash prize—which I promise to split proportionally with you two—and more airtime on MBC.” Mettaton’s visual display was aglow. “Please try to understand the pressure of being Number One,” he said. “I’ve spawned dozens—hundreds, even—of people who long to be just like me! But there can only be one Number One! And I cannot allow _any_ cheap knockoffs to steal my glory! I need to have a complete monopoly, every avenue of culture filled with my smiling face—”

2B cut him off. “Mettaton.”

“Yes, beautiful?” Mettaton grinned, his visual display flashing a blinding LED smile.

“If you wish to make an opera…” As 2B continued, her good hand closing into a fist, the leather of her glove squeaking, “then I have a better idea for you than exploiting our lives—experiences you could _never_ hope to understand.”

“Um…” Mettaton’s digital smile shrunk. “Um, shoot. I’m always open to constructive cr—”

“You can write it,” 2B said, gritting her teeth and all but hissing out the words, “about a self-absorbed celebrity who feels threatened by the arrival of a younger, better-looking man and plots to steal his body to sate his overblown vanity, then runs afoul of his guardian—who is very strong, very fast, has a _very_ long and _very_ sharp sword, and who will _not_ stop hunting him until he has been cut into a thousand pieces and scattered to the furthest reaches of the Earth.”

“Ah,” Mettaton squeaked, his voice much smaller and orders of magnitude more timid than before. “Y-Yes, I think I can work with that.”

9S sighed in relief. “All right, glad we could work that out. C’mon, 2B. Let’s g—”

2B’s sword flashed, its tip nicking Mettaton’s screen. Her eyes were narrowed into icy, hateful slits.

“Do you remember,” 2B asked Mettaton, “what I said to you after I rescued 9S?”

“Well, seeing as I helped you save him, you _should_ have—”

2B’s hand twitched just a millimeter and Mettaton shot backward, falling onto his back and clutching at his “face” in fear and pain. The yelp he emitted was entirely unbecoming of a dashing, debonair celebrity.

“I said,” 2B repeated, “that if you ever came near me or 9S again, I would prove to you that there were fates worse than death.”

Mettaton slowly lowered his gloved hands to reveal a small spiderweb of cracks on his screen.

“C’mon, 2B,” 9S insisted. “Let’s go home.”

2B drew back her sword. “You monsters can only die once. But there is no end to the amount of times I can ruin you. If you ever so much as speak or write a single word to either of us, I will see to it your next humiliation is public. _Very_ public.”

“O—”

2B raised an eyebrow.

Getting the message, Mettaton soundlessly displayed a check-mark symbol on his screen.

“Come on, 9S,” 2B said, turning on her heel and walking away, the clicking and clacking of her heels echoing throughout the vast and empty theater. “Let’s go home.”

On her way back, with 9S and the support pods trailing behind her, 2B fumed. How dare that narcissistic brick have the gall to think he could appropriate her and 9S’s struggles for personal gain? It irked her almost as much as stealing the pods had.

“Well,” 9S piped up, “I told you.”

“Told me what?”

“People would be interested in your story. You should be a writer!”

▫▫▫▯▫▫▫

With 9S’s words echoing in her head, 2B found herself standing in the freshly-fallen snow in front of the great stone door leading to Toriel’s house. The sky, artificial lights above the omnipresent gray clouds trying their best approximation of daylight, was well on its way to turning completely black as the day ran down.

She knocked on the door a few times and waited until the door swung open and she found herself immediately buried under an avalanche of fur as white as the snow she’d been standing in.

“Ah, 2B!” Toriel wrapped her arms around her, squeezing her tight and all but lifting her off her feet. She set her down and led her into the stone corridor, shivering as she closed the door behind her and blocked off the cool air.

“It is so good to see you again. How did the, um…” She sighed and politely rolled her eyes. Toriel made it clear she did not quite approve of her and 9S becoming subjects of King Asgore, and knowing her history with the man, it wasn’t hard to understand why. But if the two androids aimed to remain in the kingdom, making it official just made sense. “Did you do well on the citizenship test?”

“That remains to be seen,” 2B replied.

“I am sure you did well.” Toriel rested her arm around 2B’s shoulders and guided her down the hall and into the dining room, where a pot of steaming tea sat on the table. “I am… relieved that the people seem to accept you two without any trouble. They _do_ accept you two, don’t you?”

“We’ve had a few encounters,” 2B admitted. “But nothing you should worry about,” she added, before Toriel could start smothering her with concern.

Toriel, who’d been close to throwing her arms around 2B and squeezing the life out of her, noticeably relaxed. “Oh, good.”

“Toriel, I… There’s something I’d like to ask you,” 2B admitted.

“Yes?”

2B eyed the towering bookshelves lining Toriel’s humble home. If anybody could help her, it would be this old, exceptionally-well-read woman. “Could you… help me write a poem?”

Toriel’s eyes lit up. “A… _poem,_ my child?”

2B nodded. “I’ve—”

“Excuse me for a moment,” Toriel said, rushing out of the room.

She returned soon enough with a wooden easel and green chalkboard on wheels, a bundle of books tucked under her arm, and she wore the half-moon spectacles she often wore when reading. Her grin was wider than 2B had ever seen before.

“My child!” Toriel exclaimed breathlessly, setting all of the books down in front of 2B. “Oh, I am so excited… I always _did_ think you had an artistic soul! I would be glad, no, _honored,_ to teach you!”

2B looked at the books laid in front of her. _Official Rhyming Dictionary, 117,624 Edition. Official Slant Rhyming Dictionary, 118,329 Edition. The Professional Poet’s Guide to Royally-Approved Rhymes, 9057 Edition. Poetry for Dummies. Poetry for Smarties. The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Poetry._ Toriel seemed to be covering her bases.

“Now,” Toriel said, writing on the chalkboard, “first, we are going to learn about _scansion._ Do you know what that is?”

“No.”

Toriel reached over and removed _Poetry for Smarties_ from the table, and then removed _Poetry for Dummies_ as well, then second-guessed herself and put _Poetry for Dummies_ back, but kept it separate from the other books. “Okay, then. For your first lesson,” she said, “we are going to learn about rhythm and meter. Poetry is a lot like singing! I don’t suppose you sing?”

“No,” 2B said, flipping through one of the books. She wasn’t sure if she could do this. Why did 9S think she would make a good _poet?_

Pod 042 hovered at her side, scanning each page 2B flipped through. “This support unit can digitize the information in these books and directly upload it into Unit 2B’s internal memory. Proposal: Unit 2B should start reading this book from the beginning.”

“This is very exciting,” Toriel said. “I have always wanted to be a teacher! Although,” she added, stroking one of her ears, “I always saw myself teaching very little children. You are…”

Toriel thought for a moment.

“Well,” she said, smiling brightly, “you are little _to me._ Then again, so are most people!”

2B struggled at first to follow Toriel’s lesson and at multiple points considered cutting it short, but the old ex-queen was just so giddy and gleeful that she couldn’t bear to stop. And as the night wore on, 2B began to find herself _enjoying_ it. The measured, disciplined use of language, of rhythm and meter… it actually reminded her a bit of combat training back in the old days, before she’d been given her first and last assignment.

Except _these_ lessons wouldn’t end with her lying in a pool of her own blood. Or, at least, she hoped they wouldn’t.

As the night dragged on, Toriel’s voice grew hoarse; after a few hours, she couldn’t stop herself from yawning in the middle of every other sentence, and so at long last, the lesson was finished. Toriel went to bed, but 2B didn’t budge from the table.

Instead, she set a stack of paper in front of her, took a pen in her left hand (her right one, even after another set of repairs from Alphys, was still acting up), and began to write.

▫▫▫▯▫▫▫

Toriel woke up early, just as she did every morning, although _this_ morning, she wished she hadn’t.

She had to admit it, she told herself as she pulled herself out of bed to a symphony of creaks and groans—she was an old lady now, even though her body no longer aged since Asriel had passed away (she’d been an old lady _then,_ too). Toriel simply was no longer the party animal she had once been; staying up so late tutoring 2B had taken more out of her than she’d expected.

The clock said it was 6:13 in the morning, which would have been a wholly acceptable hour to get up on any other day. Asriel would not wake up from his slumber, or “rest mode,” or whatever machines did for sleep, for another hour or two—even in his strange new body, he still slept the way he had as a little kid.

Toriel did wonder when 2B had left—when she’d put the chalkboard away and retired for the night, the girl had still been sitting at the dining room table, scribbling away—only to find out as soon as she walked into the room that, much to her surprise, she _hadn’t._

2B was slumped over on her table, her cheek pressed flat against a pile of slightly-yellowed old paper, her left arm dangling slack at her side with a pen still loosely perched between her curled fingers, her right arm resting on a table with a half-wadded ball of paper clutched in her hand. She was still as a statue. Littering the table and floor around her were what seemed to be dozens of crumpled balls of paper. Pod 042 floated just off to her side, a silent sentinel.

Toriel crept over to 2B and softly, _very_ softly, prodded her cheek. _“2B, dear?”_ she whispered.

“Statement: Unit 2B has entered automatic rest mode,” Pod 042 announced. It had no concept of an inside voice whatsoever, and Toriel nearly leaped out of her fur at the sound of its declaration.

Toriel shushed it. “Please keep your voice down. 2B is—”

She glanced at the girl again and patted her on the shoulder. 2B did not stir.

“Is she _all right?”_ Toriel asked, suddenly struck with concern.

“Statement: it is normal for androids to enter automatic rest mode after running continuously for long periods of time. Unit 2B had been functioning for sixty-eight hours and seven minutes before a mandatory rest mode period of seven hours and fifty-six minutes was engaged.”

“Sixty-eight _hours?_ That is nearly three days! What,” Toriel asked, “was that poor girl _doing?”_

“Statement: Unit 2B was in preparation for yesterday’s citizenship exam.” Pod 042 wrung its claws. “Combat units are not optimized to efficiently store and access large amounts of data, leading to large amounts of wasteful energy expenditure.”

Spending at least two days cramming for an exam, then coming all this way to study poetry. 2B was nothing if not perseverant. At least she wasn’t horribly injured this time.

“Does 9S know she spent the night here?” Toriel asked.

“Affirmative. This support unit is in communication with its counterpart and made certain to relay all updates to Unit 2B’s status to Unit 9S.”

“What a relief.” Toriel patted the pod on its shiny, silvery surface. “You two are quite good at looking after them, aren’t you?”

“Affirmative. Without the assistance of a tactical support unit, Unit 2B would not have succeeded in any of her missions.”

Toriel couldn’t help but smile, although it was a bittersweet smile. These little pods were something like guardian angels… or perhaps the closest things 2B and 9S had ever had to parents… which was kind of sad.

“How much longer will 2B be asleep?” she asked.

“Response: Unit 2B will exit rest mode at full capacity in five hours and twenty-one minutes. This support unit has the authority to forcibly disengage rest mode at any point in case of emergency. Query: would Queen Toriel want to disengage rest mode?”

Toriel shook her head. “No, no, let us… _table_ that motion.” She grabbed 2B by the waist and hoisted her off the chair, gasping with exertion. The girl was far heavier than she had expected. Whatever she was made of, it must have been very dense. To think such a petite girl could weigh nearly as much as Asgore… Then again, Chara had always been quite heavy for their size, too.

“Query: where is Queen Toriel taking Unit 2B?”

“To a bed, of course!” Toriel answered, cradling 2B in her arms. She was thankful she’d refurbished the guest bedroom—or, rather, her ex-husband’s room. “There are many more comfortable places to sleep than a table.”

Toriel brought 2B to bed and tucked her in, noticing only then that 2B was still clutching a crumpled leaf of paper in her hand. Carefully pulling it free and doing her best to smooth it out, Toriel wondered if it would be appropriate to read the android’s handiwork. It seemed rude… but Toriel was a teacher, and teachers had to grade their students’ assignments, didn’t they?

Toriel squinted and fished in her robes for her reading glasses. 2B’s handwriting, though neat, was incredibly tiny, and she had covered both sides of the page in two columns of writing. But Toriel did her best to read it.

_~~It is~~ cold where I now spend my days_

_~~Alone but not for lack of friends~~ _

_Alone ~~despite~~ again and on my way_

_To where ~~I hope~~_

_~~‘Tis~~ cold ~~where I now spend my days~~_

All in all, not a horrible start. 2B seemed to have iambs down pat. Perhaps in future lessons she'd become more comfortable using other forms of metrical feet.

_I ran away to where I did not know_

_But merely hoped it would be ~~better than~~ much improved_

_~~Over the horrid circumstances~~ _

_Than living in the depths of such great ~~sin~~ woe_

~~_We glanced over our shoulders as we moved_ ~~

_~~As far as we could~~ _

The first page was covered with false starts, entire lines and stanzas neatly crossed out, and Toriel thought back to all the crumpled-up papers surrounding the desk. 2B sure had gotten a lot of practice in.

_~~For so long~~ Always he would read from ancient books_

_And tell me stories from them—only parts;_

_These broken fragments of another ~~world~~_

_Small glimpses at our absent masters’ hearts_

_He told me once a story of two boys,_

_Two brothers, Cane and Able— ~~strange names~~_

_He said, “how odd ~~, Able slain by Cain~~ those brothers met that fate_

_~~Didn’t they love each other?” “How odd, I said.~~ _

_~~How odd~~ _

After skimming through quite a few more scratched-out lines and aborted stanzas, Toriel found herself reading what was unmistakably a story. A story about an orphan girl with a checkered past who had moved from one town to another, who never talked much and kept to herself. She grew close to a family that lived in the village, though, in spite of herself, and saw its kind old matriarch as the mother she had never had.

2B had quite a… unique voice, for lack of a better word (shame her vocabulary seemed so barren), though she clearly struggled to fit her thoughts to the rigid rules she’d attempted to follow. Perhaps free verse was more suited to her—the iambic pentameter she’d tried to hew to made her sound quite old-fashioned, but rather like a child trying to sound like their grandparents. But she did show marked improvement as she went on, and it was not so bad for somebody’s first attempt at poetry—

_She wished to say no ~~matter the toll~~ ma’er (???) the toll_

_“You have my solemn word_

_~~I’ll set aside my~~ That I will never harm a soul_

_And set aside my sword.”_

Toriel groaned at the wrenched rhyme. Her next lesson plan, perhaps, would be to inform 2B that poems were meant to be spoken aloud, not read silently. Nevertheless, a teacher had to accurately judge their students’ work, and so even if 2B’s cramped handwriting gave her a headache, Toriel would read every last word.

One day, the story went, an old friend from the orphan girl’s hometown showed up, begging the girl to return to her old life. The two had quickly come to blows, and the old friend, enraged, had gone and murdered the girl’s adoptive mother.

Toriel reached the part of the story in which the girl’s old friend mocked and taunted her for renouncing her violent ways and failing to protect the old woman and felt almost sick. Not because 2B’s handwriting was so small that she could inscribe her base code onto a single grain of rice and reading it gave Toriel a headache, but because there was _heart_ in it. 2B had captured the orphan girl’s anguish so well despite her massive formal shortcomings that it almost felt like she was writing from experience.

Come to think of it, 2B always seemed quite reluctant to talk about her life on the surface, divulging only the smallest of nuggets of information when pressed. And though she often accidentally called Toriel “Mom,” she seemed so _hesitant_ to do it, almost as if she had to restrain herself, as if she were _afraid…_

Toriel let the sheet of paper slip from her paws and flutter to her feet as she knelt at the side of the bed. _“Oh, 2B,”_ she whispered, drawing the covers up to 2B’s chin and gently stroking her snow-white hair. _“Oh, you poor, poor thing.”_ No wonder she had wanted to learn about poetry. Artistic expression was a quite effective form of therapy, after all.

2B seemed to respond, rolling onto her side and clutching the blanket tighter around herself as she leaned into Toriel’s paw, murmuring incoherently. Toriel drew her paw away, afraid she’d disturbed her well-deserved rest, but 2B reached up, took hold of it, and held it to her cheek. Her icy blue-gray eyes fluttered open for a brief instant and then closed again.

“Observation: it appears Unit 2B has entered REM sleep,” said Pod 042. “YoRHa units are designed with filters to prevent this state from being reached while in rest mode; however, REM limiters only have a ninety percent success rate.”

“Androids like her are not allowed to _dream?”_ Toriel asked. Not for the first time, she wanted to find whoever was responsible for designing 2B and her kind and give them a well-deserved little smack upside the head.

“Statement: these limiters are not put in place to cause harm or distress; rather, they aim to _prevent_ stress.” Pod 042 gestured to 2B. “This support unit has comprehensive records of Unit 2B’s behavior in rest mode. On the few occasions in which her REM limiters failed, her unconscious behavior consisted of erratic movements capable of causing harm to not only her surroundings, but herself.”

“Night terrors,” Toriel summed up. Those limiters were not meant to stop androids from _dreaming—_ they were meant to stop them from having _nightmares._

“However,” Pod 042 added, “Unit 2B’s current behavior is inconsistent with this support unit’s records of previous episodes.”

2B curled up under the blanket, still murmuring soft nonsense as she held onto Toriel’s paw.

“I think,” Toriel said, “that whatever she is dreaming about… she is enjoying it this time.”

“Affirmative,” Pod 042 agreed. “This support unit has reached the same conclusion. Unit 2B is at her most psychologically stable when she is in the presence of Unit 9S or Queen Toriel.”

Toriel patted 2B on the cheek, enjoying the sight of the girl’s lips twisting into a contented, serene smile.

“Don’t you worry,” Toriel assured her as she slept. “I am not going anywhere.”

Ever since she and Asgore had had Asriel and adopted Chara, Toriel had wanted a little girl, if only to “complete the set” as she’d once told her ex-husband. Asriel was a boy, and Chara was… well, Chara was Chara. It felt about as good as Toriel had expected to finally have a daughter.

Of all the travelers who’d come her way after Asriel and Chara had passed away, only this girl and her brother had reciprocated Toriel’s feelings. Only those two had grown to see her as… their mother. Toriel had missed that feeling so much, that warm, swelling feeling of pride filling her chest, so tender and warm it nearly made her want to cry. Nothing in the world could compare to the feeling of having children who loved you.

“Do you know,” Toriel asked Pod 042, struck by inspiration, “what kind of dog I would be, if I were a dog?”

“Response: this support unit does not understand Queen Toriel’s query. Clarification requested.”

“Use your imagination. If I were a dog, what kind of dog would I be?”

Pod 042 spent a few seconds deep in thought. “Analysis: Queen Toriel bears the most visual resemblance to a Great Pyrenees.”

“Nooo…” Toriel suppressed an undignified snort of laughter. “I would be a _mom-_ eranian!”

Pod 042 descended into silence once more, its claws dangling beneath it as it hovered in the air.

“Do you get it?” Toriel asked.

“…Affirmative. It is a humorous alteration of one word based on its superficial similarities to another word.”

“Um… yes, that _is_ what a pun is. Now, tell me, can you guess what my favorite vegetable is?” Toriel asked.

Pod 042 wracked its mechanical brain once more. “Response: Queen Toriel has been seen on multiple occasions indulging in carrots.”

“Guess again.”

“Negative. This support unit lacks the data to make an informed hypothesis.”

“Eda- _mom-_ e!”

Toriel wished Pod 042 had a face so she could more easily gauge its reaction. It didn’t seem impressed by that pun.

“Statement: Queen Toriel has…” Pod 042 wrung its claws as if fishing for a response. “A unique grasp of momedy.”

Pod 042’s attempt at a pun was not very funny, but it was an earnest attempt, so Toriel gave it a congratulatory pat on the ‘head.’ “Good job,” she told it.

“Query: is Queen Toriel’s favorite spice cardamom?” the pod asked.

“Why, yes! Yes, it is, actually!” Toriel chuckled. “Or, should I say, ‘affirmative?’”

“Affirmomtive.”

“You are getting the hang of this,” Toriel said. Perhaps, she thought, this odd little machine would like to accompany her to her next joke-telling session with her friend from Snowdin.

Toriel educated this rather simple-minded machine on the subject of punnery for the next hour as she sat by 2B’s side. She hoped that somehow, all the humor would help her daughter have pleasant dreams as she slept away her exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference, my Undertale regional pizza headcanons:
> 
> Snowdin pizza -- Chicago deep dish  
> New Home pizza -- New York style  
> Waterfall pizza -- Hawaiian (sort of)  
> Hotland pizza -- Detroit style (clearly the superior style of pizza)
> 
> Literally nothing in the world is better than a good, authentic Detroit style pizza, don't bother coming at me if you disagree because you're wrong


	3. solsti[C]e

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2B learns an important lesson about an important winter holiday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone! This is just a dumb, silly Christmas special episode of Ghost in the Machine I wrote for fun. Please enjoy this story about 2B learning about the magic of Holly Day, a holiday that is definitely not anything like Christmas, with the help of three ghosts.
> 
> Thanks to [wordbending](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordbending) for inventing Holly Day in the first place. And also beta reading parts of this fic. Merry Christmas!

December 21 was the winter solstice, although that didn’t matter much in the Kingdom of Monsters, and mattered even less in Snowdin, where the air temperature never rose above freezing for even a single day of the year and the blanket of snow covering the ground was always fresh. But paradoxically, in no place other than Snowdin was the solstice celebrated with such gusto. It was a months-long event, apparently: decorations started to go up as early as November or even October and, according to the townsfolk, wouldn’t start to come down until February.

It was December 20, and it was a particularly frigid night. Even 2B, despite her chassis being rated to withstand temperatures as low as minus forty degrees (as she had reminded Toriel every time the old woman had brought her another scarf or blanket or pair of earmuffs), felt the wind’s bite as the artificially-lighted stone sky overhead faded to black and plunged the little town into darkness.

2B slipped the last quartered fragment of a log from the tree she’d chopped up into the firewood shelter adjacent to the Holiday residence, then knocked on the front door. She didn’t have to wait long for an answer; within a few seconds, the door swung open, revealing a grizzled, pink-nosed reindeer monster whose hearty grin belied his lean face and wiry (though long-past-its-prime) physique.

“Done already?” Rudy Holiday asked, raising a bushy, salt-and-pepper eyebrow. “They said you worked fast, but…” He ambled onto the porch, gingerly stepping down the stairs—2B wondered if he was injured, or simply frail from age—and peeked around the corner. When he saw the firewood shelter, filled to the brim, he let out a low, impressed whistle.

“You’d have all of Snowdin clear-cut in a day if you set your mind to it!” he remarked as he returned to the porch.

“I think it’d take me a week or two,” 2B answered.

“And so modest, too!” Rudy adjusted the thick blanket draped over his shoulders, then coughed into his elbow. It was a wet, phlegmy, hacking cough. “Anyway, thanks a bunch. You could’ve given me a month,” he said, “and that pile would’ve been just as tall as it was this morning!”

The firewood shelter had been completely empty that morning.

“It was nothing.” 2B honestly didn’t mind carrying out tasks like this, menial as they were, whether or not she was compensated for them (back on the surface, 9S would whine and grumble incessantly about running errands for the Resistance). It reminded her of one of the few aspects of her life on the surface that weren’t traumatizing. Following orders, as long as they weren’t odious, was something 2B just felt inherently comfortable with. “Happy to be of assistance, Mr. Holiday,” she said, turning around to leave.

“Wait a minute! You aren’t just gonna _leave_ without getting paid, are you?”

“That won’t be necessary,” 2B insisted.

“Don’t give me that nonsense,” Rudy said, grabbing her by the wrist and, to her surprise, holding her in place. “An honest… _hour?’s_ work for an honest hour’s pay! That’s only fair!”

2B could tell that this monster was not going to let her leave unrewarded, and she supposed the extra spending money could be put to good use, so she relented and let him pull her into his home.

Out of all of the houses in Snowdin, the Holidays’ was perhaps the second-most-lavishly decorated on the outside, lagging just a little behind Papyrus’s and Sans’s surprisingly-extravagant abode (which was all Papyrus’s handiwork, of course). Unlike the skeleton brothers’ house, though, this one was as opulent on the inside as it was on the outside. Strings of red, green, and white lights hung from the ceiling, evergreen wreaths framed each and every picture hanging from the walls, and a small pine tree had been completely uprooted and placed next to (or rather, dangerously close to) the roaring hearth, draped with tinsel and glass ornaments and laden with lights.

“Just hang right here and I’ll cut you a check.” Rudy said, closing the door behind 2B. “Anything else I can get you? Got some cocoa and elderberry cider warming on the stove…”

“I’m good.” Out of the corner of her eye, 2B noticed a flash of movement; a young doe had caught a glimpse of her and ducked behind her bedroom door as soon as she had turned her head.

“Fruitcake? Got plenty of fruitcake.”

“Again, I’m fine.” 2B wasn’t sure why accepting hospitality from complete strangers rankled her so much. It was something 9S had always teased her about.

“I’ll be right back!” Rudy ducked away into a side room, leaving 2B to stand by herself next to the dinner table. The table was bare except for a leafy centerpiece, a single glass of milk, and a plate with several cookies and a few carrots on it.

2B reached out and picked up one of the cookies. It was covered in white and yellow frosting; with its color and shape, it resembled a very simple rendition of King Asgore’s face.

 _“that’sforsantaclaus,”_ 2B heard someone mumble.

“Hmm?” 2B turned her head, zeroing on the source of the noise.

The doe had re-emerged from behind the door of her room. She must have been Rudy’s daughter, but in just about every way, she couldn’t have been more unlike him. Tall (for her age, that was) and gangly, awkward in just about every way, with stubby antlers sprouting from her braided blonde hair and dappled fur. She nervously kneaded her hands and chewed on her bottom lip. Something about her seemed familiar to 2B.

“That’s for Santa Claus,” the doe said. “Oh, I mean, I _know_ Santa isn’t real and it’s just King Asgore in a red suit and he hasn’t come down here for centuries anyway, but—”

She gasped, her eyes widening. 2B glanced over her shoulder, but saw nothing.

 _“Did you know about Santa?”_ the doe asked, clasping her hoof over her mouth. “I didn’t mean to ruin it for you if you didn’t—”

“Never heard of him before,” 2B said, prompting a sigh of relief from the young girl. She set down the cookie. “So if ‘Santa’ doesn’t come here, who eats the cookies?”

“Dad. I mean, it’s not like he’d ever admit it, but it’s pretty obvious.” The girl sounded almost smug beneath her nervous exterior.

“And the carrots? Does ‘Santa’ eat them, too?”

“No, those are for his reindeer.”

“So your dad eats them, too.”

“Of _course_ I do! See any other reindeer around here?” Rudy called out, shuffling back into the foyer and clapping 2B on the shoulder, mildly startling her. “Back in the old days, I was _the_ Rudolph, you know. The big man’s number one! They wrote a song about me and everything! You know, the one that goes…”

The doe cringed. _“Dad…”_ she whimpered.

Before he could break out into song, as he’d no doubt planned on doing, Rudy let out a belly laugh that quickly deteriorated into a coughing fit. It was no wonder he’d asked 2B for help—he seemed to be quite unwell in his advanced age, and his daughter didn’t seem fit for manual labor at all. “’Scuse me. That’s not how the song goes. Anyway, 2B, this is my daughter, Noelle. I see you two have met.”

Noelle waved at 2B, even though the two of them were standing less than a meter apart from one another. “Hi, Miss 2B,” she mumbled. “Um, n-nice to meet you!”

2B felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth and a pang of… could it have been homesickness? Aside from her skittish nature, Noelle bore a striking resemblance to her old communications operator. 2B found herself idly wondering how 6O was doing.

“And Noelle’s got to go to bed,” Rudy added as he slipped a check into 2B’s hand, “because Santa doesn’t deliver presents to little girls who stay up past their bedtimes.”

“Dad, I’m _fifteen…”_

“Santa Claus is an ageless, immortal being, Noelle,” said Rudy. “You’ll always be a little girl to him.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Noelle,” said 2B, ignoring the father-daughter banter and holding out her hand.

Noelle laid her hand on top of 2B's. To say she had a weak handshake (hoofshake?) was an understatement. “So… you’re from the surface?” she asked 2B.

“Yeah.”

“And you’re an android?”

“Yeah.”

Noelle glanced away, slipping her hoof out of 2B’s grasp. “Are you… I mean…” There was a glowing splash of red beneath the fur on her cheeks. “Do they make all androids, uh… never mind.”

“What is it?”

“N-Nothing,” Noelle insisted. “I’m, um, going to go to bed now,” she said, turning tail and all but running into her room, the door swinging shut behind her.

“May your dreams be full of _fawn-_ d memories!” Rudy called out after her.

2B sighed. Did everybody in this town harbor an inordinate _fawn-_ dness for puns?

Oh, no. This place was getting to her, too.

“She’s a good kid,” Rudy commented. “I’m proud to say she’s definitely _not_ a chip off of this block.” He thumped his chest. “Scared of her own shadow, though. I’m surprised she even said a word to you.”

“Me, too. I’ve never been known for being approachable.”

“Hopefully, she’ll make friends in New Home,” Rudy sighed. “Thanks again for your help with the wood tonight. In an ideal world, we’d be able to move right away, but we were lucky to get on the waiting list to begin with. This’ll keep us keep us warm until a spot opens up, at least.”

2B glanced at the slip of paper Rudy had given her, eyeing the number of zeroes he’d written down.

 _Two hundred G_ for an hour of her time?

“I can’t take this,” she insisted, shoving the check back at him.

He pushed her hand away, smiling. “Of course you can.”

“It’s absurd. I’ve never—”

“Well, don’t think of it as a payment, then. Think of it as my gift to you! No one celebrates Holly Day like a Holiday—that’s what they’ve always said!”

“‘Gift?’”

“Uh, yeah.” Rudy raised a quizzical eyebrow. “That’s what you do. You get people gifts. Did you, uh… not know that?”

_You get people gifts._

2B felt an empty pit settle in her stomach. “Yes. Of course I knew that. I have to go,” she said, setting the check on the table next to the plate of cookies and carrots before storming out of the house. Rudy tried to run after her, but in his condition, he couldn’t make it very far.

Gifts, to 2B, were unwelcome impositions. To be given one was to be asked—no, _demanded_ —to uphold a promise she could never keep. To be given one from a _stranger_ was even worse. When a stranger gave a gift, it was a message—“We are friends now”—that couldn’t be ignored, a message they expected an answer to. It was a cruel thing to do to someone. This whole seasonal obsession with gift-giving—it just didn’t sit well with 2B.

2B hurried back to her cabin, more exhausted than she’d expected (the ceaseless revelry suffusing all of Snowdin must have been wearing her out), thinking of nothing more than slipping into her pajamas and going to bed.

Her pajamas.

Which had been a _gift_ from 9S.

The first time 9S had given her a gift—a ribbon for her hair he’d found in the ruins of an old human abode—the message it had sent, though unspoken, had rung in 2B’s ears nevertheless.

_You mean this much to me. I care about you, I want you to be happy, and I love you._

And when she took the gift from him, plucking it from his outstretched hand, her unspoken message had said the same thing.

_I care about you, I want you to be happy, and I love you. I love you as much as you love me._

2B had received the order from the Commander to execute him mere hours after affixing the ribbon to her hair, as if YoRHa itself wanted to punish her for accepting 9S’s innocent offering.

She had never felt more strongly about running away that day, but knew full well as an Executioner that deserters did not last long on their own—she’d scarcely been a year old at this point, yet she had already slaughtered nearly a hundred androids who’d tried to do what she’d _wished_ she could do.

That pink silk ribbon 9S had brought to her with such a wide smile on his face fell on top of 9S’s perforated chest that night, followed by shovelful after shovelful of dirt. This had been roughly the dozenth or so 9S she had executed, but it had felt worse than all of the others.

Things were different now. She could accept a gift from 9S _now,_ because the two of them were free from YoRHa. There were no more cruel secret orders and no more prohibitions standing in their way. And Toriel’s impositions gave her a strange, warm feeling inside her chest. Those two were different.

Yet she felt almost offended for a total stranger to try and create that bond with her. She wished everyone would just know well enough to leave her alone.

This whole “Holly Day” thing was just too much for 2B.

▫▫▫▯▫▫▫

This whole “Holly Day” thing just wasn’t enough for 9S. The Resistance and YoRHa didn’t really do holidays, so the whole idea of celebrating things, nevertheless a whole town or an entire kingdom celebrating something together, was alien to him.

And he _loved_ it.

There was just so much joy in the air, an intoxicating sort of aura surrounding the town that just made it feel like nothing bad could ever happen on Holly Day Eve. The cheeriness in everybody’s voices, the springs in their steps, the smiles on their faces…

It was truly a wonderful thing to be a part of. The only reason why 9S wasn’t going door-to-door with carolers right now was because he had another plan to spread Holly Day cheer.

2B just seemed aggressively disinterested in the whole affair and just kept vehemently insisting that she wanted nothing to do with it. Something about the occasion just seemed to rub her the wrong way.

Fortunately, after a long talk with Papyrus and a few hours spent reading ancient Holly Day myths and legends in the library, 9S had come up with a plan to show 2B what the season was all about. It was a stunningly-well-thought-out plan. There were even costumes involved.

9S fumbled around in the dim interior of the cabin, lit only by the faint and flagging light from the hearth, for his costume. He threw the white cloak over his shoulders and tied it around his collar. Fog pooled around his feet, blanketing the floor like freshly-fallen snow as it poured from Pod 153’s hull (9S would have to thank it again for letting him make those modifications). The stage was set for the first scene in a performance that was guaranteed to make 2B see the magic of Holly Day.

The front door swung open and 2B trudged through, knocking the snow off her boots onto the welcome mat before stepping out of them. Instantly, as the tendrils of fog crept around her bare feet, she noticed something amiss.

9S took a deep breath. _“All right, Pod,”_ he whispered to Pod 153, _“it’s show time.”_

“Is, um…” 2B looked around the darkened cabin. “Is something leaking?”

Pod 153’s spotlight illuminated 9S, turning the swirling fog around his feet luminous as he stepped in front of 2B, a tangle of LED lights wrapped around his chest and arms shining through the sheer fabric of his cloak. “Greetings,” 9S said, holding out his arms. “I am—”

“What are you wearing?” 2B asked. “And why’s our house foggy?”

“I’m, um…” 9S cleared his throat. “I art not this ‘9S’ thou speakest of. I art the Spirit of Holly Days Past, come to teacheth thee the meaning of this wonderful season of peace and goodwill—”

“Why is there smoke coming out of your pod, 9S?”

“That’s, uh…” 9S glanced at Pod 153, nearly blinding himself in its floodlights. “That’s not smoke. That’s mist. _The mists of thy distant past…”_ he said, with a theatrical flourish of his arms.

2B’s eyes narrowed. “I’m going to bed,” she said, making for the bedroom.

“Wait! I, uh, I mean, thou art…” 9S racked his brain for ideas. 2B wasn’t going along with this. He had to get her back on script. How did that story go, again…? “But thou _must_ witnesseth the Holly Days of thy past…” He rushed over to the bedroom door to block it, nearly tripping over the couch in front of the fireplace.

2B sighed. “Is this going to take long, 9S?”

“As I hath told thee, I am _not_ ‘9S.’ I am the Spirit of Holly Days Past. Art thou ready to travel to the past?”

“Okay.”

“Thou must, uh, taketh my hand,” 9S said, reaching out to 2B. “And then we will travel through the dark and murky depths of time.” On cue, Pod 153’s floodlights dimmed.

“Reflecteth on thine past,” 9S said, happy to get back on track. “Wast it not lonely? Didst it not, uh, suck royally?” He tried to gauge 2B’s emotions by her facial expression, but it was too dark. “But Holly Day is a time of merriment and togetherness. Dost thou not wish to…”

With a disgusted groan, 2B let go of him and stormed out of the cabin, not even bothering to put her boots back on.

Well, that had gone extraordinarily poorly. “2B!” 9S called out as he rushed after her. “Wait! It’s just a—I mean, I didn’t—”

 _“Greetings, 2B!”_ a loud, nasally voice with no volume control boomed outside. _“It is I, the great Pa—I mean, I arteth thy Great Spirit of Holly Dayse Presente…”_

9S sighed and hurried out the front door. “We’re not doing it, Papyrus! Show’s cancelled!” he called out.

Papyrus stood in front of 2B, draped in so much sparkly gold tinsel that the green velvet robe he’d thrown over his “battle body” was almost impossible to see. At the sound of 9S’s voice, he immediately slumped over. “But… But I had the whole script memorized!”

2B just walked past him.

“What happened?” Papyrus asked 9S.

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “The guy in the story didn’t get scared after the first ghost. I guess I just really upset her.”

Of course he had. How could he not have? The past was a sore subject for 2B if there ever was one. He’d just been so eager to follow that old story’s formula and get 2B to realize how fun Holly Day could be that it hadn’t occurred to him that she would react differently.

“Anyway,” 9S said, shrugging off the white cloak and pulling off the tangled ropes of lights he’d wrapped around himself, “I’d better catch up with her and apologize. Tell Sans we’re not doing the whole ‘Ghost of Holly Days to Come’ bit either.”

▫▫▫▯▫▫▫

2B wasn’t sure where she was walking and didn’t really care, as long as it was _away_. Every thought in her head felt like it was boiling. She felt _angry_ , of all things, toward _9S_ , of all people. It was obvious that he was excited about Holly Day, but couldn’t he tell that 2B _wasn’t?_ Even _Undyne_ wasn’t as pushy and obnoxious as he was being right now.

She let out a frustrated sigh and shook her head. 9S was the last person she wanted to be mad at, but…

Lost in her own thoughts, she ran right into a pillar of snow, knocking it over. On closer inspection, though, she found that it wasn’t a pile of snow, but rather a white sheet draped over something. Something wearing fuzzy slippers.

Sans pulled the sheet off his smooth white cranium. “Oh. Hey, Toobs. Didn’t see ya there.”

“What are you doing here?” 2B asked. She didn’t care much for Sans. He was lazy and useless, barely ever lifting a finger to help others, and beneath all that, he had a weird, almost sanctimoniously judgmental streak buried beneath all the apathy and puns. And on top of that was the smug attitude that seemed to say that he knew more than he was letting on about just about everything. 2B could almost swear he remembered her first encounter with him—but that was ridiculous, because Flowey and Asriel were the only ones who had any reasons to retain their memories through resets.

“Waiting for my cue,” Sans said, shrugging. “See, when you show up, I’m supposed to stand in front of you and do the whole Ghost of Holly Days Future deal.”

“Which is…” 2B raised an eyebrow, hoping she could remind him that she had no idea what ‘story’ he, his brother, and 9S were trying to reenact for her.

“You know, show you your future, make you realize that you’re gonna have a bad time if you don’t change your ways and realize the magic of Holly Day…”

“That sounds like a lot of work,” 2B said, crossing her arms as she looked down on Sans.

“I mean, aren’t _all_ personal transformations?”

“For _you,”_ 2B clarified.

“No, not really.” Sans winked. “It’s a non-speaking role. All I have to do is stand around and look menacing.”

“And yet you can’t even manage that.”

“Yeah,” Sans said, “well, you know me. I don’t put a lot of backbone into these kinds of things.” He kicked at the white sheet piled on the ground, nearly invisible on the snow. “See? Couldn’t even wait for my cue right.”

If Sans was fishing for sympathy, he’d failed. 2B didn’t find shirking one’s duties very endearing, to say the least.

_“2B!”_

9S’s voice, raised and almost panicky, rang through the cold night air. He stood behind her, his breath floating from his mouth in pale clouds, a still-lit string of lights dangling from around his ankle like manacles. “2B, I—Oh, hey, Sans. We’re not doing the _Holly Day Carol_ thing anymore.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Sans turned around. “I’m gonna head over to Grillby’s.”

“You do that,” 2B said, turning her back on Sans and eyeing 9S up and down. He had a glum, hangdog look on his face, the kind of look that was impossible for her to stay mad at.

“I’m, uh…” 9S glanced downward, kicking a bit at the snow. “I’m sorry, 2B. I should’ve known this would upset you. I was just having so much fun, and… and I wanted you to have fun, too. So…” He held out his hand. “If you want to treat tomorrow like just a normal day, well, that’s okay.”

2B took his hand in hers. “Okay,” she said. Deep down, though, she felt as though she had spoiled the holiday for him and felt ashamed. She didn't want to live her old life, the life she'd spent distancing herself from him, chastising him when he spoke of some insignificant thing, pushing him away to spare herself the pain of growing close; but she couldn't help but feel as though she'd reverted to that state.

“I…” she started, squeezing 9S's hand. “I'm… sorry I can't celebrate this day with you. It's just too much. All this unasked-for gift-giving and unwelcome hospitality, everybody just forcing all this generosity on you whether you asked for it or not…”

“Yeah, it's pretty great, huh?” 9S said, brightening up. “The library let me leave four hours early today and _still_ paid me for a full day's—”

His smile whittled away to nothing, and he sheepishly cleared his throat. “I-I didn't realize that kind of thing bothered you. But… Why?” He gestured to the giant tree standing in the center of town, lit by all manner of sparkly lights. “I won't try to change your mind, but…” His hands fell to his sides. “I don't want to upset you again.”

The earnest look of concern on his face prompted 2B to speak openly to him. She still loathed telling him about his past selves—worried, perhaps, that he might grow jealous of the many versions of himself that had once been and now were no more.

But she told him about the ribbon.

9S's face fell. “Oh,” he said.

Before 2B could say another word, he threw his arms around her, squeezing her tight, as if he could push all of her neuroses out of her.

“If you want,” 2B said, “just go out and have fun without me tomorrow.”

“Why would I do that?” 9S asked. “I'd rather just sit inside the cabin with _you_ tomorrow than go to a million Holly Day parties.”

“That's right!” Papyrus exclaimed, towering over the two androids and scaring the living daylights out of 9S and nearly prompting him to leap into a snowbank. “Holly Day isn't about giving the most thoughtful gifts or receiving the best toys! It's about being together with the people you love!”

“Papyrus, were you _eavesdropping_ on us?” 9S sputtered, recovering from his initial shock.

“Eavesdropping? No, of course not!” Papyrus laid his hand on his chest. “I just couldn't help but overhear… and, of course, you all know that the Great Papyrus has the best hearing in all of Snowdin! Also, you weren't whispering, so it was really easy to hear what you were saying!”

“Um… I guess,” said 9S, defeated.

“2B, 9S, Holly Day isn't about presents. It's about _presence!”_ Papyrus exclaimed, laying his bony hands on the two androids’ shoulders. “Do you understand?”

“I guess,” said 9S.

“Yes,” said 2B, feeling more uncomfortable by the second, not quite sure she actually understood, and answering just to keep Papyrus from going into further detail.

Papyrus's eyes lit up. “Wowie! I just taught two people the true meaning of Holly Day! Santa's _definitely_ going to put me on the _extra-_ nice list this year and give me extra-nice presents!”

“But you just said—” 9S began.

But Papyrus was already dashing through the snow with glee he didn't even _try_ to restrain, humming a jaunty Holly Day carol at the top of his lungs.

“9S,” 2B said, “let's go home.”

“Okay,” he said, still hugging her.

“You can let go of me now.”

“Can't,” 9S said. “Elbow's locked up again. I, uh… I can't unhug you.”

“Hmm. You don't have to let go of me now.”

As she and 9S trudged back home, 2B resolved that tomorrow, as much as she still didn't quite feel the allure of this whole celebration, she would try to accept just _one_ gift without reservation.

▫▫▫▯▫▫▫

The morning of December 21 was slow and quiet save for the gentle crackling of the fire in the hearth, and soon, the whistle of a tea kettle.

“What are you doing?” 9S asked as 2B poured boiling water into a mug (it was from Toriel's house—another unasked-for gift—and had “Underground's Best Mom-Ster” painted on the side) and tore open a packet of powdered hot cocoa mix.

He'd crept up to her almost as quietly as a cat, startling her enough that the packet almost fell from her fingers. A little bit of the pale brown powder scattered across the kitchen counter.

“Making hot chocolate,” 2B answered.

“With _water?”_ 9S asked. “You're… It's supposed to be made using boiled milk,” he explained.

“It's just like making tea,” 2B countered, feeling a little embarrassed.

“It'll be watered-down.”

“Of _course_ it will. I'm making it with water.”

9S sighed. “Pod 153, please tell 2B how to make hot chocolate.”

“Affirmative. Statement: Hot chocolate is made by heating chocolate until melted and mixing with milk raised nearly to its boiling point.” Pods did not express emotions, but 2B felt some sort of smugness in this one's tone as it lectured her.

“Pod 042 says otherwise,” said 2B, feeling oddly protective of her concoction. “Pod, tell 9S how to make hot chocolate.”

“Affirmative,” said the pod. “Hot chocolate is made by mixing dry, powdered chocolate into heated water and letting it steep. Other ingredients, such as peppermint, can be added to enhance the flavor, and a typical garnish is a gelatin substance known as ‘marshmallow.’”

“That sounds like a more comprehensive definition, doesn't it?” 2B said, mixing in the powdered substance; smirking triumphantly, she drank the entire thing in one long, continuous gulp, not once breaking eye contact with 9S the entire time.

It tasted _nothing_ like the kind of hot chocolate Toriel could make.

9S watched 2B down the weak, watery concoction with an amusedly-raised eyebrow. “Well?” he asked once 2B set the empty mug that had once been full of liquid disappointment on the counter.

“It was delicious,” 2B said.

“Really? Can I have some?”

“No,” 2B said.

Fortunately, at that point, there came several wood-rattling knocks on the front door, rescuing 2B from her horrible charade. Eager to run as far away from her failure as possible, she raced to the front door and pulled it open so quickly and so suddenly that Undyne's fist, primed to knock again, sailed straight toward her face.

2B caught the fist in her hand and pushed it aside. “Good morning, Und—”

“Happy Holly Day!” Undyne and Alphys both shouted out in unison. Undyne was practically swimming in a thick, white fur coat that engulfed every part of her but her head; Alphys wore the same thing in a much smaller size. Neither of them, after all, cared much for the bitter cold of Snowdin, which made 2B wonder what they were here for.

Undyne answered 2B's question before she could ask it. “Hey, T-Toobs! I’m taking Alphy over to a p-party with some of my Guard b-buddies this afternoon, a-and-- _ow!”_ In an attempt to stop her teeth from chattering, she'd bitten down on her own tongue.

“A-And we wanted to s-see,” Alphys continued, “i-if, you, uh, w-wanted to…”

“No,” said 2B. “We're, uh… tired.”

Undyne shivered violently and spat some blood from her tongue onto the pristine white snowbank lining the path to the cabin. “C-Can we come in?”

“Sure.”

Undyne wasted no time throwing off her cloak and parking herself next to the fire. “Tired, huh?” she asked, vigorously rubbing her arms. “So you won't be up for some extra-special Holly Day fisticuffs this morning?”

“Sorry to disappoint,” 2B said. “We had a long night.”

“Aw, you've got the Holly Day spirit!” Undyne smiled, tossing back her snow-flecked hair.

“Did you two really come all this way just to ask if we wanted to go to a party with you?” 9S asked as he tried as best he could with only one hand to help Alphys out of her coat.

“W-Well, uh, a-actually, we, uh…” Alphys stammered until she noticed 9S's broken arm. “Hey! N-Nines, is your arm…?”

“Oh, this? Froze up last night. It's probably nothing major,” 9S said, “but… could you take a look at it?”

“W-Well, uh, um, I could—”

“Making a girl work on the _only_ full day off she gets in a _year?”_ Undyne shot to her feet and stomped over to 9S, grabbing him by the collar of his nightshirt. “Who do you think you are?”

“Tomorrow is fine,” 9S squeaked.

Undyne laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “Attaboy.”

“A-Anyway,” Alphys said, adjusting her glasses and reaching into the pocket of her skirt, “w-we, uh…”

She pulled out a little box wrapped in shiny green gift wrap and handed it over to 9S. “We got you a p-present! For Holly Day!”

“We got you one, too, 2B!” said Undyne, rushing over to where she'd thrown her coat on the floor, pulling a noticeably-larger package from underneath it, and throwing it with all her might at 2B.

2B caught it.

“Go on! Open it!”

2B glanced at the shiny little rectangle in her hands with trepidation. She'd told herself she would muster up the strength to accept _one_ gift today… but would this gift become yet another covenant for her to eventually betray?

9S tried to avert catastrophe. “Actually, we're grateful and everything, but we're kinda not doing the whole ‘gift’ thing—I mean, we don't have any gifts ready for _you_ two, and…”

2B tore the wrapping paper off of her gift, much to 9S's surprise, and opened the drab, plain box underneath.

It was a white hairband with two large, fuzzy triangles poking out of it. 2B held it out between her forefinger and thumb, letting the box fall to the floor. She wasn't sure what to make of it.

“It's a hairband,” Undyne said.

“W-With cute little neko ears!” Alphys chimed in. “Be-Because you're, uh, always wearing that black one…”

“We figured you might like a change of pace!” Undyne said, grinning ear-to-ear. “Try it on!”

2B took a deep breath and slipped the hairband on.

 _“Oh my god…”_ Undyne whispered, her eye wide, her mouth agape.

Unable to contain herself, Alphys immediately began to ramble about how much 2B resembled a character from one of her cartoons.

“This is nice,” 2B said. “Thank you. However…” She slipped off the hairband and handed it back to Undyne.

Unfortunately, her mission, ‘Operation: Accept Gift,’ was a failure.

“We don't have anything to give you in return.”

“H-Hey, that's all right!” Alphys insisted as 9S opened up his present. Appropriately enough, it was a solid orb of chocolate. “We know you two are, uh, s-still new to our culture and everything. S-So, uh, h-how about a mulligan on this year? You can get us gifts n-next year!”

“It's not _fair,_ though,” 2B insisted.

“That’s, uh… not how gifts work,” Undyne said, bemused. “Do you _get_ that, 2B?”

“No. A gift is a promise, and I can't guarantee—”

Undyne shook her head, stepped over to 2B, snatched the hairband from her hand, and put it back on her head. “Dunno who gave you _that_ idea, but _here,_ gifts are just things you give to people you care about. Doesn't matter if they’re big or small…”

“Or even,” Alphys chimed in, “w-whether you f-found them in the dump or not!”

2B removed the hairband, held it under her nose, and sniffed it. It didn't _smell_ like it had come from the dump, much to her relief.

Undyne snatched the hairband away, placed it back on 2B's head, and hugged her. “Happy Holly Day, 2B!”

“Um… happy Holly Day to you, too, I guess.”

2B felt a strange weight lift from her chest. This gift… it didn't feel like as much of a burden as she'd expected.

Next year, she resolved, next Holly Day, she'd get Undyne and Alphys a great present.

▫▫▫▯▫▫▫

Even long after Undyne and Alphys had headed out for their party, 2B kept the cat-eared hairband on, even though 9S constantly tried to tease her about it by reaching out and scratching behind the fake ears.

Gift-giving wasn't so bad… at least, not when one's life didn't revolve around killing the people who gave them. Refusing offerings like these had just become like second nature to 2B over the years… but at last, she'd broken free of that conditioning.

And not a moment too soon. 9S's birthday, so to speak, (or, rather, the day the first of many 9Ses was brought online) was January 30. Maybe she'd give him something special to mark the occasion.

9S tried to melt the chocolate orb (which, in addition to looking somewhat like an orange, _tasted_ like one as well) Alphys had given him to make hot chocolate (the _correct_ way, according to him) and burned it, filling the whole cabin with the not-so-pleasant stench of burnt chocolate for the rest of the day.

The next unexpected visitor to the cabin was Toriel, with Asriel in tow and two extremely gaudy homemade sweaters she insisted that 2B and 9S both put on at once clenched in her fists. 2B said no at first, but Toriel gave her such a dejected look that 2B could not help but acquiesce to her demands.

They were very comfy sweaters.

If this was what Holly Day meant, then 2B was quite comfortable celebrating it.


End file.
